Alanna
by Gwen Sachira
Summary: Tristeshiftermercenary girl goes back to Midnight, is enslaved by a vamp who thinks she's a human, and read to find out more...


_My first try at a fanfic, be nice to me, please. I'm writing this as I go along, so don't expect another chapter soon. I am going to school, you know.  
_  
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When Alanna came back to Midnight, the last thing she expected was to be captured and enslaved. So she ws humanoid. So what? She was one of the most magickal immortals here. Her father, Peregrine was a shapeshifter vampyre and her mother, Niamh, was a shapeshifter and half Triste. Alanna was trained as a mercenary at Bruja, but forbidden to participate in the Challenge because she was only 16.  
  
Alanna came back ready to be feared for what she had become. Instead, she was afraid. The vampyre who enslaved her was not planning to keep her, but rather sell her to pay off a debt or two. Or so he said. Currently, there was not much she could do but pace in her small room. At least she still had her issued blade from Bruja. If Alanna's captor so much as came near her, she would be ready. While she was brooding her fate, the locked clicked, the door creaked, and she came face-to-face with the vampyre.  
  
Feisty. Most mortals would be cowering. But ignorance is bliss, isn't it? I'll bet you have no idea who or what I am.  
  
Not trusting her mutinous tongue to hold her identity secret, Alanna restrained herself to simply spitting at his shoe.  
  
Hostile? We'll see about that. Gabriel may take a fancy to you. He has an almost suicidal fondness for any mortal girl that may do him harm.  
  
_Gabriel... the name rings a bell..._ thought Alanna. _I've heard it somewhere before... if only I could remember where...  
  
Perhaps at church, _came her captor's reply._ Wasn't he an archangel? I always thought it was an odd name for a vampyre to choose.  
  
_Alanna shrunk visibly. She was way out of practice. Everyone could get at her thoughts, if this weakling could. A few moments of inner weaving regenerated her thought-proof walls.  
  
Who are you? she questioned her captor, defiant.  
  
Demetrius. Not that it matters. While you're here, you will refer to me as Lord or Master, understand, pet?  
  
Yes, m'lord. said Alanna, head cast down. Her thoughts were mutinous, but her outward appearance was humble.  
  
What's your name? Demetrius demanded.  
  
  
  
Been in the slave trade before, Olivia?  
  
  
  
Really? Then why were you back out on the streets? Demetrius prompted.  
  
I was born into the trade. My mother and I escaped from a lenient Master. This was the tale Alanna usually told, as this situation often happened in the trade. It also explained her defiant, then humble attitude, because most new slaves could tell a Master's lenience by how insistent he was on titles.  
  
Seeming satisfied, Demetrius left, presumably to fetch Gabriel. The name finally clicked for Alanna. _Gabriel had owned a Bruja member who was sent in on a mission,_ Alanna thought._ Ravyn something-or-other, the onetime head of Bruja. Ravyn's long since dead, though. It's creepy, dealing with vampyres, they look the same for hundreds of years.  
  
_ Sometime after that, Alanna fell asleep. When she woke up, two men were standing above her, smiling. _What is going on?_ Alanna thought. _Who..._ and then the memories of the day before came flooding back. Alanna curled back up into the fetal position with a grunt. It wasn't a dream after all. She was a slave, soon to be sold to Gabriel so Demetrius could pay off a debt. Alanna knew she would need to take her knife with her, if she ever wanted to escape. As Gabriel looked her over, Alanna had the odd sensation of being evaluated, like cattle. Then the vampyres turned to face one another. This haggle would be by thought-speech, not spoken aloud.   
  
In a few minutes, apparently having reached a decision, Gabriel walked over to the bed and said quietly, Come along, Olivia. You are mine from now on. You may call me Gabriel, but if important guests are over, I ask that you take care to remember the use of titles.  
  
I will, sir.  
  
I don't doubt it.  
  
They walked the remaining miles in silence, each one brooding over the turn of events.   
  
Gabriel wondered what made him jump to accept Demetrius' offer of this pretty mortal slave. He hadn't dealt in flesh since he made Ravyn a free blood. God, how he had loved that girl. She had used him, though. Mercenaries always get what they want.  
  
Alanna was hoping that he didn't try to make her a bleeder. Every Bruja member knew how fond he had been of Ravyn, and how he had made them both free bloods, so they were able to carry out missions inside Midnight without much resistance. She didn't want to poison him with her blood unless she really wanted him to die. Loving him was out of the question, too. Who knows what damage she might accidentally inflict. No, she would clean and entertain by song and dance until her revolutionary vaccine system was tested.  
  
Alanna was working on a vaccine drink that stripped the strong damaging parts of her Triste blood, so a vampyre could drink it, and become immune. This would help her in her quest to become as magickal as she could be, if a vampyre gave her his blood as well. Right now she wasn't thinking of anyone in particular, but times change.


End file.
